


Under the Oak Tree

by Ely_Baby



Series: The Blossom and the Dragon [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 14:22:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2584499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ely_Baby/pseuds/Ely_Baby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pansy has something to say to Blaise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the Oak Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Beta-read by [QueenBtchoftheUniverse](http://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenBtchoftheUniverse).

***

Pansy leaned against the trunk of the ancient oak tree. The mild September sun was washing over the gravestones, while her eyes lingered on the small crowd of black-dressed wizards and witches who seemed to shake from time to time with their hushed wailing.

She could feel the bumps of the bark digging into her shoulder blades through her black silk dress, but instead of shying away from the uncomfortable surface, she pushed against it, relinquishing in the physical pain to take away her emotional one.

She closed her eyes and inhaled the scented air of the graveyard. Autumn was upon them, she could tell by the smell of the humid ground and the sweet aroma of the dead leaves around her.

She focused on the voices coming from the crowd and on the wind that brought them to her and made her cheeks flush. She focused on the squirrels that were cavorting on the branches above her head and on the leaves that fell around her like rain.

She focused on everything but the wooden coffin that was lowered into the hole down the hill.

“I got your message.”

Pansy’s eyes opened slowly. She looked up to meet a pair of red eyes.  _Had he cried?_

She cocked her head. “I can see,” she murmured so softly that she wondered if she had been understood at all.

He nodded to show that he had heard her.

She opened her mouth to say something, but couldn’t find the force to utter a word, so she closed her lips again before taking a deep breath and looking back at the crowd of people.

He didn’t urge her to speak. Instead, he followed her gaze and stared with her, his breath regular and loud next to Pansy.

They stayed like that for what seemed ages. The wind making her dress flutter around her knees and her hair whip her face. Then, finally, as the crowd started to disperse, she turned to look back at him.

He was staring at her, his full lips closed in a stern line.

“Blaise…” she started, and she couldn’t help noticing how shaky her voice was.

He must have realised how fragile she sounded, because he took a step towards her and spread his arms to hug her. She shook her head and he stopped. He smiled sadly at her, as if she was being a stubborn child. “Pansy,” he breathed.

She looked at him and discovered that he was nothing more than a blurred black spot through her teary eyes. She sniffled loudly before speaking, “I need to talk to you.” She wiped away the tears. “And I can’t do it if you take me in your arms.” She lowered her eyes. If he hugged her, she was just going to melt in a pool of tears.

“Okay,” he agreed softly, taking a step back.

Pansy took a deep breath.

> _Meet me under the oak tree._

She had pushed her message into Blaise’s pocket as they were listening to the celebrant giving Draco a final petition, before his casket was sealed and prepared to be lowered into the hole near Lucius’ grave. She had to leave the ceremony then, because she was feeling something starting to crack inside of her and she didn’t want to cry in front of all those people. Not in front of Astoria and Narcissa, nor in front of Millie and Goyle and Nott and Daphne.

She looked back at Blaise. Why was it so difficult for her to speak? Because what she was about to tell him she had never said to anybody. “I am old,” she started, her voice soft and shaky, “too old to bear children.”

“Pansy…”

“Don’t,” she stopped him, “let me talk.” She took a sharp breath. “I’m not pretty anymore. My hair would be grey if I didn’t use a potion, I have spots on my hands and my skin is a map of wrinkles.” She swallowed, it hurt her to list down her physical flaws. “I…” her words trailed away as she lowered her eyes. “I’m not used to sharing my life with anyone anymore. I… I don’t know how to be with someone… I don’t—”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

Pansy looked back at Blaise and saw that his eyes were open wide and filled with incomprehension.

“Because…” She noticed that she couldn’t talk to him and look at him in the eyes at the same time, so she lowered her gaze on his chest. “Because… in case you were… you were still in…”

“Still in love with you?” he asked softly.

She nodded.

“And what if I were?”

She lowered her eyes even more and stared at his knees. “I don’t know…” she confessed. “I just… I just don’t want to be alone…” She felt her eyes filling with fresh tears and closed them in the attempt to trap them in her eyelashes. “But I’m afraid I don’t how to love…”

He sighed. “That is the biggest lie I’ve ever heard from you, Pansy Parkinson.”

Pansy’s head snapped up, and she used the back of her hand to rub the tears away from her eyes and focus on him. She looked with apprehension at Blaise’s calm face, despite his words he looked back at her gently.

“You’ve loved the same person for forty years, Pansy,” he told her in a murmur.

She looked everywhere but at him. “Then, I don’t… I don’t think I love you, Blaise…”

He took a deep breath. “I know,” he admitted softly, “you said that so many times.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice broken with emotion. “I’m sorry, Blaise, I— _don’t_!” She panicked as his strong arms encircled her tiny body and he pulled her against his chest. “Don’t, Blaise,” she whispered, her voice filled with fear, “if you hold me I’m going to… I’m going to…”

He tightened his arms around her. “It’s okay,” he whispered back, “you can cry, Pansy, I won’t tell anybody.”

She leaned her head against his chest and let out a half-sob half-chuckle, then tears started to swell up in her eyes again, but this time she didn’t stop them from falling. She knew she was soaking Blaise’s robes, but she didn’t care. He didn’t seem to care either as he sheltered her in his arms, giving the comfort that she was yearning for.

She cried for the umpteenth time in three days. Ever since she had felt Draco’s heart stop beating under her fingers, she felt like she couldn’t stop. As if someone had turned on the tap of her tears and she didn’t know how to turn it off again.

When her tears placated a little she sighed and pushed her head against Blaise’s chest. He leaned his cheek against the top of her head and inhaled her scent.

“It doesn’t matter,” he murmured gently.

She frowned without understanding.

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t love me,” he explained, “I love you enough for both of us.”

“Oh, Blaise,” she whispered frantically, withdrawing her head a little from his chest to look up at him.

He gave her a small smile before lowering to kiss her. It was a soft, quick chaste kiss, but Pansy could feel electricity going through her body as he pressed his lips to hers.

When he withdrew, he cocked his head and his smile widened a little, but his voice was still nothing more than a murmur when he spoke, “Do you want me to marry you?”

She smiled back and chuckled softly, a wayward tear rolling down her cheek. “If you still want to,” she whispered gently.

He didn’t reply, but proceeded to kiss her again. His lips lingered a bit longer on hers this time.

When he detached his mouth from hers, she swallowed, the smile gone from her face. “I need to tell you…” she started shakily, “I need to tell you everything…”

He brought a hand to her face and brushed her locks from her teary eyes. “You don’t have to,” he murmured softly.

She looked at him resolutely. “I do,” she replied, trying without succeeding to sound unwavering, “I need to tell you everything about me.” She lowered her eyes to his chest and pressed herself against him. “About the way Lucius Malfoy touched me when I was just a child,” she breathed, “about the days I was so poor I didn’t have money to eat. About the way Borgin killed my son…”

Blaise stiffened and tightened his arms around her, as if he wanted to knock the air from her lungs to stop her from talking. As if it pained him to hear her words.

Pansy didn’t care. She could stop talking now, but she wanted to tell him everything. Everything about her. She needed to know that at least one person in the whole world knew what she had gone through. At least one person needed to know her story. Keeping her mouth shut in the past had led her nowhere. She needed to know that at least Blaise knew.

“I love you,” he whispered to her.

Pansy curled her fingers on his chest. “I know,” she whispered back. She sighed. “Take me home?”

She could feel his head bob up and down against her hair and she let him decide where home was as he pulled her in a side-along Apparition and the graveyard disappeared in front of her eyes.

FIN


End file.
